Instead of pulling the lust
from my groin
and pretending
its existance

I write.

My mind turns
reality to dreams
as time passes
and I forget

the feel
the picture

A nickname
makes the guilt
surface
while my actions escape me.

I had no control.
But if I could have
I would have
anyway, fearing her reliability.

Brain functionalityisms.

Fear penetrates me
and in two words
the agent sneaks away.

"It's Okay."

The betrayal of it all
The irony
I am a vampire.
With no power over myself.

It controls me.

And my hand drops
the pen.
My hand reaches
into my pants.

I am so weak.

09/10/2004

Posted on 11/17/2004
Copyright © 2025 Jared Winkler